Brothers of the Damned
by Hixkin
Summary: Malefor and Razakel are brothers. One a Lesser God, the other an abomination. The Apes worship the black dragon, but as Malefor rises to power and is driven by lust and ambition, how far will the brothers go to see who shall reign? Will the Apes save themselves, or hasten their world to it's bitter end?


Hello! I've taken this idea over from a friend. It's set far before the Legend of Spyro, and is meant to show how the dragons and their elements came to be(mostly), but generally focuses upon the reason why Purple Dragons are well...Purple. It will start off slow for a few chapters, so please be patient. The relationship of Malefor and his family(mostly brother) will be revealed. I only own what I own.

* * *

><p><em>The Mythic Era<em>-Pre Scarring

A heartbeat. One single heartbeat is the dawn of new life emerging into a world ruled by chance and fate. A heartbeat, followed by a breath which was weak and wheezed.

A small snout broke through the surface of the clear water, maw opening to produce a soft, winded cry. The small wyrm was struggling to maintain its nostrils just above the calm waters, serpentine tail swaying back and forth in the mirk as his once webbed talons had matured into those suited for land. The gills that had served such a use in his infancy had closed, and ceased in giving the drakeling the requirements of life.

Yet instinct had propelled the wyrmling onward to reach the shallows, for a powerful surge of water from the mountains had plucked the young dragon from safety, whom had been basking in the shallows in the early morn.

Another labored cry had been forced from his weakened lungs, not yet strengthened from use. His short limbs fought in vain against the currents, and even his muscled spine and tail were tiring.

From the shoreline, a much larger wyrm had awakened from basking upon the shore, tired, sapphire eyes opening. It was then the weak cries had hit her ears, and the female amphithere had fully awoken, nostrils flaring with alertness and pupils narrow as Atura snapped towards her crying chick.

The scarlet wyrm slipped into the water, white underbelly with black diamonds upon her chest plates stained with wet mud and algi. The waters parted over the beast's hide as the current stirred and swirled, the shifting kill forcing the struggling chick under.

Atura approached her young, body softly swaying back and forth before opening her massive maw and gently grabbing the youth. Hoisting her head above the flow of the current, the young dragon was forced within a protective pouch in her crushing maw.

The chick cried and chirped, surrounded by warmth once more, and not the frightening chill of the cold mountain waters.

Atura was careful with her baby, pattern of breaths changing as to not cause discomfort for her young as she approached the shore line. Where cool waters gave way to dried earth was when the Dragon God gently dropped her child upon the warm earth, the black wyrm flopping out and landing with a soft thud.

Upon his back, struggling to flip himself over, Razakel cried, limbs flailing. Atura looked down upon her hapless chick, head cocked ever so slightly in what would be amusment.

Slowly, her attention faded to her lands, the forests lush and green, a village nearby filled with human worshippers. However, in other areas were The Burned Lands, charred by the very volcano which her shrine had resided in. Her nostrils flared as a new scent filled her senses, eyes casting towards the skies as a roar echoed among the clouds.

Ever so briefly did a shadow cover the land, as if in a mere second before the ground shook from another dragon landing. Atura turned her gaze towards the intruder, eyes glancing upon yet another of her fire drakes.

The male she had known well, for the large and proud fire dragon was the Guardian of the Dragon Clans of Fire. The strongest of his clan this one was, and he was as nurturing and as fearsome as the Dragon God of Fire herself.

But the Clan of Fire was only one of three dragon subspecies different by lifestyle, element and culture. The Dragons of Fire often ranged in color from orange to yellow, in some rare cases being a shade of red or dark blue. The Fire Clan lived among the forests, and as such worked closely with their human neighbors. The benefits both species received were stark by the comparisons of the Dragon Clans of Ash or Lava. By comparison, the Fire Clan was much more civil compared to their cousins.

The Ash Clans made their home within The Burned Lands, feeding upon those killed by the smoky fumes and ash. They were more nomadic my nature, for The Burned Lands spread far and wide. The Ash Guardian was powerful, if mysterious, for she was always shrouded in smoke and covered with ash. The colorations of these drakes could range from an off shade of smoky white, grey, and even black. At times they even seemed to glow in the night sky, for embers would coat their ash covered hides. Instead of breathing fire, these dragons tended to rely upon breathing heated smoke and ash to flush out unwanted intruders. If need be, they could even cause ember and smoke storms with their powerful wings. However, they tended to let the humans be when making their pilgrimage to Atura's shrine, for without Atura, the dragons would never be.

The Dragons of Lava were the last clan, and resided within the heart of the volcano. These dragon thrived within the volcano, swimming within the earth's blood and feeding upon the sulfur and brimstone. These dragons never leave their volcanic home, and remain within the molten lakes for their scales are highly sensitive to temperature change. The Lava Guardian is the oldest and wisest of the Lava Clan, though old age is creeping up upon the dragon, whose scales will eventually fail to protect him from the harsh lava, and he will be engulfed in the immense heat. Unlike their brethren, Lava Dragons spout an almost liquid fire, hot enough to melt stone and bones.

The Dragons of Atura may not have interacted with one another often, but the clans shared a kinship that was tied to the amphithere. That single form of kinship is what allied them together.

The Guardian of Fire looked upon the much larger female, bowing his head as Atura looked upon him with acknowledgement. Her head once more tilted to one side as she noticed a human woman was behind him.

Her sapphire eyes then flicked to the Guardian in question, the male shifting almost nervously as he growled softly, wings preventing a complete view of the woman.

A snort escaped the female as the human approached on shaking legs only to be stopped by the fire drake, "No, Karlia. Not yet. She has not granted you yet." The Fire Guardian spoke softly, the woman frowning in dismay.

"But...my baby..."

"Shhh...she does not speak in the same tongue as you or I. Speaking in their language takes time." The male replied, swiftly turning his attention back to the scarlet serpent before him, the Fire Guardian lowering himself into submission.

Atura continued to look upon the male, unsure of his intentions or why he was representing this one female. Her curiosity was broken, however, as she heard the cry of an infant cut shrilly into the dry air, followed by wheezing and coughs. The human mother tried to quiet her child, yet to no avail.

Razakel cried in dismay at the sudden scream, looking towards his mother who nuzzled her offspring, calming the black wyrm with green eyes.

With a low growl, Atura flicked her head towards the Guardian, the male looking between the scarlet dragon and the human before slowly backing away, head low.

"Now go. She has granted you honor." The Fire Guardian whispered, nudging the human forward as she gasped, looking upon in reverence and terror before approaching on shaking legs, knees buckling into a submissive kneel.

"Oh, blessed Dragon, please, answer my prayers as a mother. I beg you, have mercy upon my baby." The woman whispered softly, bowing her head as she exposed her ill child.

Atura looked upon the child, blinking as she tilted her head to get a better view of the small creature. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in and out, taking a moment to listen to the labored child. Slowly, almost gently so did the female scrape her scaled jaw against the soft skin of new birth as her sky orbs softened. A single tear was shed from her watering eyes, the sole drop spilling from her snout onto the child below, cradled safely within its mother's arms.

The wheezing infant suddenly calmed, breathing soft and clear as it coed, the mother looking upon the wyrm with wide eyes as the tear had soaked into her child's flesh. The woman began to sob softly to herself, cradling her infant to her chest before bowing as deeply as she could.

"Thank you, Great Dragon. I...I shall go to your shrine and pay homage twice as much for as long as I live." The woman promised, rising to her shaking legs, knees weak.

Atura pulled away, gaze falling upon the Fire Guardian as he bowed under her attention. The Greater God nodded once before turning her attention back to her own chick, Razakel calling softly.

A sudden gust of wind broke the silence, yet Atura did not need to look to know the fire dragon had left. His decision in bringing the human directly to her was questionable, yet perhaps necessary for the infant's survival. Making a pilgrimage to her shrine within The Burned Lands would have taken too long.

Briefly, Atura looked towards the mountains, clouds gathering just above the peaks. It was no doubt that Levunda was the cause for her offspring's near death, though by fate or mere chance as to why the incident occurred, the dragoness could only guess.

The thunderous roars of the Storm Goddess carried for miles and resounded from mountain to mountain, her wings causing gusts of storms. Razakel has cried once more, his mother quieting him with a soft rumble that had escaped her throat.

_Shhhh. I am here._

Atura's soft cry had calmed the drakeling, causing the young male to settle within the grass. Razakel's short limbs were winded from fighting the currents that came from the chill north, and needed sleep.

Chirping softly, his poison eyes slowly closed to the world, his mother resting nearby. The morning had already drained the future Lesser God of his energy, yet the day was still young, and peaceful. For now.

* * *

><p>Like it? Hate it? Let me know!<p> 


End file.
